


Colonial Day

by HaleHole (SweetFanfics)



Series: Mating Games Challenge (+Extras) [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Battlestar Galactica Fusion, F/M, Flirting, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 22:30:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1704893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/HaleHole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He loves his sister but he doesn't get her infatuation with the communication's officer. Not that he's in any position to judge anyone's love lives. He's the one who's been in love with his dead sister's ex-fiancé for more than five years now.</p><p>As thought beckoned, Derek hears Stiles' voice come from behind. "Hey stranger. Is this seat taken?"</p><p>Smiling for the first time that night, Derek turns around to greet the Viper pilot. And promptly forgets what are words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colonial Day

**Author's Note:**

> I've only been screaming about a BSG AU for oooh months now? And I had three ideas in the start - two of which i managed to pawn off to other people with promises that they'd write em lol and the third. was this. 
> 
> Warning: Cora's dead in this verse, along with most of the Hale Family. I imagine they must have lived in Caprica City. Dad was probably in the military and mom ran a successful business.
> 
> Big thanks to Jettie for the quick look over ; v; <3

Derek hangs close to the bar, nursing his drink and ignoring the crowd around him. He wishes he wasn't on duty. Then he could get drunk and forget about the shit pile that is his life. Derek dearly wants to forget he's the CAG (Commander, Air Group) and responsible for protecting their tiny fleet. He'd love one night where he can act like the human race isn't on the verge of extinction. One night where he can forget about the Cylon's chasing them.   
  
One stupid night where he can pretend he's still in Caprica City. On shore leave in some dinky bar near the bad side of town and looking for someone to spend the night with.   
  
Someone bumps into him from behind, elbow connected sharply with his ribs. Derek turns around, scowling at the giggled apology the lady gives him while her partner keeps trying to steal kisses. Derek ignores the couple as they move on, taking another sip of his drink.

He wonders where Laura is. _'Probably in some corner with Isaac.'_ Derek thinks with a grimace. He loves his sister but he doesn't get her infatuation with the Communication's Officer. Not that he's in any position to judge anyone's love lives. He's the one who's been in love with his dead sister's ex-fiancé for more than five years now.

As thought beckoned, Derek hears Stiles' voice come from behind. "Hey stranger. Is this seat taken?"  
  
Smiling for the first time that night, Derek turns around to greet the Viper pilot. And promptly forgets what are words.  
  
Instead of the standard, formal military wear most of the colonial officers are sporting, Stiles is wearing civilian clothes. Formal civilian wear. Derek swallows harshly, feeling his mouth go dry as he takes in the sight Stiles makes. The Viper pilot is wearing a button down shirt, first two buttons undone to show off the hollow of his collarbone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, dress pants and boots. His hair is artfully messy instead of the usual 'I literally just rolled out of my rack to attend this stupid meeting so it better be good CAG' style he's fond of sporting.  
  
In short - Stiles looks fucking edible.  
  
"No." Derek almost chokes on the word, standing up straight unconsciously. "It's not."  
  
Stiles chuckles, sliding into the space Derek's made. There's barely enough room for a cat to squeeze in much less someone with Stiles' broad shoulders and lean frame. He's flush against Derek's side and chest, a warm length of sinewy muscle that makes Derek's senses reel. "Hey bartender!" Stiles is shouting. "I need a drink! Ambrosia with a chaser! Beer, okay?"  
  
The familiar order makes Derek want to sigh and laugh at the same time. "You've been spending too much time with Erica." She's the one who swears by that combo. 'If you want to do anything that would usually scare you shitless? A glass of ambrosia, chug down a beer and you're good to fucking go! No Toaster's gonna scare you then!'

"Viper pilots stick together." Stiles reminds him, toasting Derek with his bright green drink before downing it with a grimace. He quickly scoops up his beer bottle and drinks half of it down. He shudders in a way that makes Derek wonder if Stiles would do the same when being fingered open on Derek's bed. Stiles squints up at him. "Aren't you the one who said we needed to make the nuggets feel like part of the pack?"  
  
Derek scowls half heartedly as he finishes his drink. "I didn't mean get drunk with them to the point you all are hung over the next day." They're lucky no Cylon's had attacked that day. Or else, Derek's sure they would have been toast (not to make a Cylon pun). It's not that he's jealous of all the time Stiles has spent with Erica. Not at all.  ~~He's a terrible liar.~~  
  
Stiles snatches Derek's glass away, turning around to wave it at the bartender. "He's not drunk enough. Fill 'er up." He hollers.  
  
"Stiles." Derek begins to argue but it's no good. He's never been good at saying no to people he loves. It's a character flaw Derek's never tried to correct. Especially after the Cylon attack. There's only a few people left who he loves. He doesn't want...  
  
He shakes his head and takes a mighty swig of his drink, grimacing at the burn and Stiles' amused hoot. "What's with the civies?" Derek asks, wiping his hand against his chin.  
  
Stiles plucks at his shirt collar, eyes glittering in the golden glow of the lights. "I'm off duty. And I didn't want to wear the formal thing you're rocking. Didn't want to get upstaged."  
  
"I don't know." Derek lets his eyes drag over Stiles' form, lingering on his hips and the way the pants cling snugly to the Viper pilot's hips. When their eyes meet, Stiles' eyes are dark with pleasure. "I think you did that anyways."  
  
Pink lips curl up sharp and amused. "You clearly haven't heard the way people are talking about you then."  
  
"Like I care." Derek mutters with a tinge of resentment (and embarrassment).

He's never cared what people say or think about him, now more than ever. Most people see him as a pretty face and nothing more. Even more people think he's a shit CAG, which he doesn't care about either. Derek knows that okay? He doesn't need any more reminders. There's a reason why he's letting Scott lead more and more missions. If Derek's lucky, he can convince the Admiral to promote Scott to the CAG and Derek can go back to being a simple Viper pilot again. A bit more experience and a few more kills under his belt and Scott'll be good to go.  
  
Stiles presses closer, hand intimate and warm against the crook of Derek's arm. "You really don't?" His voice reminds Derek of good whiskey. The kind of stuff you savor with every sip instead of chugging down like the shit they've got left.  
  
Derek looks down at Stiles' arm, cursing the long sleeves of his jacket keeping Stiles' touch from his skin, before looking back up. He stares at Stiles' lips and wonders if he ought to. If he can.

He licks his lips, pleasure flooding him when he sees Stiles follow the quick movement. "I only care what a few people think about me." Derek answers lowly, wishing he had the courage to return Stiles' touch.  
  
"Does that include me?" Stiles ask with a curious head tilt.  
  
Derek nods carefully, finishing his drink in one try before gently take hold of Stiles' hand.

"Dance with me." He says. It's not an order but it's not a question either. Derek's too scared to ask. He's too scared of rejection.  
  
With a hard eyeroll, Stiles lets Derek lead him to the dance floor. "Did no one ever teach you how to use question marks?" He snarks, wrapping his arms around Derek's shoulders.  
  
The ease with which they fit together always takes Derek aback. Every time. It doesn't matter what they do, they always click. Derek wishes he could tell that to Stiles. Wishes he had the courage for it.  
  
"Did no one ever tell you you don't always have to talk? That silence is a virtue?" Derek retorts.  
  
Stiles tightens his grip, leaning in close until they're cheek to cheek. "They did but you don't talk that much so someone has to fill in the gaps." Stiles' words are a warm puff of air falling over his cheek and ear.   
  
Derek shivers. He tightens his grip on Stiles' waist, unintentionally dragging him closer until their hips brush together. He hears Stiles' gasp and wonders if Stiles meant to do that or not. Their relationship involves a lot of flirting, sexual tension and pushing each other's boundaries. As such, they don't usually show the effect they have on each other. Stiles' gasp and the way his fingers dig into Derek's shoulder is new.  
  
It's scary and thrilling at the same time.

"Derek?" Stiles asks hesitantly. It's a tone of voice Derek has never heard before, least of all directed at him. Hesitance is not a quality he typically associates with Stiles.  
  
He hums quietly, slowly rubbing his cheek against Stiles'. Derek feels like he's floating and has no control over his body. It's like watching a movie from far away. Distantly he's aware of his mouth pressing a feather soft kiss under Stiles' ear.Derek can't feel the smile stretching his lips when Stiles shudders in response.

"What are you doing?" Stiles asks breathlessly.

"Something I should have done a long time ago." Derek murmurs back, pulling back as his hands slide up.   
  
He feels Stiles' muscles tense and relax within seconds under his palms. He sees Stiles' startled expression melt into one of intense longing. He feels Stiles' hands slide back to cup his jaw. Derek sighs at the first contact their lips make before pressing in harder. Stiles pushes back, grip tightening as the kiss turns desperate. The wet smacking noise of their kisses is lost under the music, noisy crowd and the loud thumping of his heart. Derek groans quietly as Stiles' teeth sink into his bottom lip.   
  
"Frak." Stiles moans, hot, clever fingers sliding down Derek's chest to grab onto his jacket. "We need to get out of here. I need to get you out of this. Need you under me, over me, just..."  
  
Derek nods frantically, already dragging Stiles to the exit. "My room's closer."  
  
"My room has lube." Stiles shoots back. Derek's more than happy to follow Stiles' lead and turns left instead of right as soon as they're out of the ballroom.


End file.
